and especially how his hand was currently sliding onto the empty spot on the couch between us.
I lowered my hand so it was about three inches from his.
And then James did it.
He reached over and put his hand on top of mine, interlacing his fingers with my fingers. I turned my hand over, so our palms were touching. Neither of us made a sound. I don’t even think I was breathing.
James leaned toward me. I leaned toward him, closing my eyes, still holding his hand. When our lips met, we held them still for a second. His hair brushed against my cheek. He tasted sweet, like chamomile and mint. As he parted his lips, I parted mine. We pressed the tips of our tongues together and then closed our mouths again.
James stroked the back of my neck, sliding his hands along the slopes of my shoulders. I was about to melt into his arms when this thought jolted me like an alarm clock on a predawn morning.
CLAUDIA! OMIGOD! CLAUDIA! OMIGOD! CLAUDIA!
I pulled back from James and dropped his hand.
I am horrible. I am worse than horrible. I am —
“What’s wrong?” James asked. His eyes were crinkled with concern. I’d never seen his eyes so close up, never realized they had ambery flecks in them.
I shook my head. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”
“We don’t have to. If you’re not comfortable, then—”
“I’ve got to go.” I stood up quickly and raced into the foyer.
“Can you tell me what’s wrong?” James asked, following me.
I double-knotted one boot and then the other.
What’s wrong is that I’m a backstabbing traitor. What’s wrong is that I never should have come here, and now I need to get out before it’s too late. What’s wrong is that every additional second I remain here I become an even more horrible person.
James handed me my coat. “Can I at least give you a ride home?”
“I’m fine walking,” I said.
He filled his cheeks with air and slowly deflated them. “Are you sure?”
I nodded and took off out his door.
I barely remember the walk home. It had started snowing. Heavy, wet flakes. My throat felt scratchy and dry. I was so drained I couldn’t even think, which was probably a good thing … considering.
The one thing I do remember is that as I retraced my steps through all the familiar streets of my life, I now felt completely lost.
Chapter Eleven
When I woke up in the morning, my throat hurt so badly I couldn’t swallow. It took me a few seconds to remember what had happened last night, and when I did, I was overcome with shame.
There was an intense light penetrating the curtains next to my bed. I rolled over and peeked out the window. Snow was everywhere, so white it was almost blue. Mounds and ripples heaped over parked cars, weighing down the shrubs, turning front lawns into glaring mirrors.
I closed the curtain and yanked my blanket over my eyes.
I am a horrible person,
I thought.
Horrible, traitorous, backstabbing. I have been the one encouraging Claudia to go after James all this time. I am a horrible, horrible, horrible person.
I must have fallen back asleep. When I woke again, my throat hurt even worse. The phone was ringing, but someone picked it up. Probably my mom or dad. No, if they’d gotten home from Florida, they would have come in and said hello. I wondered what time it was. I was too tired to look at my clock.
I drifted off and was awoken again by the phone. My sinuses were clogged. My joints and muscles hurt. All I wanted to do was sleep. Sleep and forget about how awful I felt. Sleep and forget about last night.
Someone knocked at my door.
“Come in,” I croaked.
“Are you okay?” V asked. “You sound like you’re sick.”
I squinted at her. Her hair was pulled into a high ponytail. She was wearing plaid pajama bottoms and one of my dad’s old sweatshirts.
“Aren’t you supposed to be at play practice?”
As V shook her head, her ponytail swung from side to side. “Canceled because of the blizzard.”
“What about my parents? Have
I lowered my hand so it was about three inches from his.
And then James did it.
He reached over and put his hand on top of mine, interlacing his fingers with my fingers. I turned my hand over, so our palms were touching. Neither of us made a sound. I don’t even think I was breathing.
James leaned toward me. I leaned toward him, closing my eyes, still holding his hand. When our lips met, we held them still for a second. His hair brushed against my cheek. He tasted sweet, like chamomile and mint. As he parted his lips, I parted mine. We pressed the tips of our tongues together and then closed our mouths again.
James stroked the back of my neck, sliding his hands along the slopes of my shoulders. I was about to melt into his arms when this thought jolted me like an alarm clock on a predawn morning.
CLAUDIA! OMIGOD! CLAUDIA! OMIGOD! CLAUDIA!
I pulled back from James and dropped his hand.
I am horrible. I am worse than horrible. I am —
“What’s wrong?” James asked. His eyes were crinkled with concern. I’d never seen his eyes so close up, never realized they had ambery flecks in them.
I shook my head. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”
“We don’t have to. If you’re not comfortable, then—”
“I’ve got to go.” I stood up quickly and raced into the foyer.
“Can you tell me what’s wrong?” James asked, following me.
I double-knotted one boot and then the other.
What’s wrong is that I’m a backstabbing traitor. What’s wrong is that I never should have come here, and now I need to get out before it’s too late. What’s wrong is that every additional second I remain here I become an even more horrible person.
James handed me my coat. “Can I at least give you a ride home?”
“I’m fine walking,” I said.
He filled his cheeks with air and slowly deflated them. “Are you sure?”
I nodded and took off out his door.
I barely remember the walk home. It had started snowing. Heavy, wet flakes. My throat felt scratchy and dry. I was so drained I couldn’t even think, which was probably a good thing … considering.
The one thing I do remember is that as I retraced my steps through all the familiar streets of my life, I now felt completely lost.
Chapter Eleven
When I woke up in the morning, my throat hurt so badly I couldn’t swallow. It took me a few seconds to remember what had happened last night, and when I did, I was overcome with shame.
There was an intense light penetrating the curtains next to my bed. I rolled over and peeked out the window. Snow was everywhere, so white it was almost blue. Mounds and ripples heaped over parked cars, weighing down the shrubs, turning front lawns into glaring mirrors.
I closed the curtain and yanked my blanket over my eyes.
I am a horrible person,
I thought.
Horrible, traitorous, backstabbing. I have been the one encouraging Claudia to go after James all this time. I am a horrible, horrible, horrible person.
I must have fallen back asleep. When I woke again, my throat hurt even worse. The phone was ringing, but someone picked it up. Probably my mom or dad. No, if they’d gotten home from Florida, they would have come in and said hello. I wondered what time it was. I was too tired to look at my clock.
I drifted off and was awoken again by the phone. My sinuses were clogged. My joints and muscles hurt. All I wanted to do was sleep. Sleep and forget about how awful I felt. Sleep and forget about last night.
Someone knocked at my door.
“Come in,” I croaked.
“Are you okay?” V asked. “You sound like you’re sick.”
I squinted at her. Her hair was pulled into a high ponytail. She was wearing plaid pajama bottoms and one of my dad’s old sweatshirts.
“Aren’t you supposed to be at play practice?”
As V shook her head, her ponytail swung from side to side. “Canceled because of the blizzard.”
“What about my parents? Have
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